Candles
by Millie
Summary: A fic inspired by the song Candles by Daughter give it a listen while you read . This is an angsty one shot. Please R


"Another," Sharon tapped the glass of the bourbon tumbler as the bartender approached her. She gazed absently off in to space, pretending to focus on the television, but really not seeing anything at all.

She was surprised to find her drink replaced quickly, the glass sliding against her fingers. She picked it up and let the cool liquid burn down her throat. She only wished she had a cigarette to complete the pity party she seemed to be throwing for herself. She had to wonder how she had gotten so caught up in the first place…damn _her_ for being so fucking…

Her thoughts were fuzzy, hardly discernible at the late hour and after one too many bourbon's on the rock. She would call a cab and get herself home so that she could face another day of hell. Another day of letting the one woman who could make her skin crawl walk all over her. She felt wretched.

A rowdy group of boys shoved against her as they made their way across the bar. She nearly spilled her drink on her far too expensive blouse, but she steadied her hand in time.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry," a young boy – who was hardly a day over twenty-five – stopped to apologize.

She glared at him, but his face only softened. "Let me buy you another." He offered.

She scoffed, "are you old enough to buy me a drink?"

This young, dark haired, blue-eyed boy was the exact opposite of everything Sharon was trying to drink away. He simply leaned up against the bar and smiled. "I'm not that young."

Sharon scooted over, giving him room to stand far too close to her. She hadn't wanted company; she hadn't wanted to talk to anyone. She supposed if she'd really wanted solitude she should have gone home and enjoyed her own bottle of bourbon, but here she was and here this young child was. Asking to buy her a drink.

"I'm not finished with this one. Shouldn't you offer to buy me a drink when my glass is empty?" She challenged him, realizing that her body posture was open, inviting. She realized she could hardly control the way her leg was nearly touching his.

"I suppose that is true." He nodded, reaching to take a beer from the bartender. "At least let me pay for you then."

Sharon eyed him warily. "You don't know how expensive my tab is."

"Oh come on, let me pay." He waved the bartender over and handed over his credit card, explaining that he was taking over her tab.

She simply sat back on her barstool and regarded this mysterious young man. He was cute, he was young, he was nothing like what Sharon wanted in a partner. He was all wrong for her.

"What's your name?" He had turned his attention back to her, his body seemed closer.

Sharon shook her head, "you're not really interested."

"Hey, you don't know that. You're the most beautiful woman in this whole room, and I want to know what your name is." His face was so serious; she couldn't help but believe him. But she didn't want his flattery, she didn't want this attention.

"I'm probably older than your mother." Sharon nearly whispered in to her drink as she sipped the dark liquid.

He took the glass from her lips and she protested at first, but then his mouth was moving against hers. His lips were confident, persuasive against her own. And she wanted to forget, so badly. This was unacceptable, this was wrong. His lips were so full and warm, and surprisingly soft but nothing like the lips Sharon was used to.

She finally found herself again and pulled away. "You're quite confident." She picked up her drink and busied her lips so he wouldn't do it again.

"You're quite difficult, aren't you? Come on. Relax." He let his hand touch her knee. She wanted to jerk it away, because it was so wrong to be doing this. With him. But she needed this.

"You don't know me very well." She nearly laughed against her drink, which she finished in a quick gulp. The glass was sat unceremoniously on top of the bar.

"Come home with me." He insisted.

She stared blankly at him. "Does that _really _work on women?"

He shrugged, "is it working?"

Sharon rubbed her forehead before nodding her head and turning to find her purse. "Okay."

…

She sighed, her hand falling limply above her head. It had been so long since she'd been penetrated like this. She could hardly begin to decide if she enjoyed it because he was quite good at what he was doing. He peppered her forehead with kisses, their bodies moving together.

It was oddly quiet, and had been since they'd arrived at a little apartment near downtown LA. She hadn't taken the time to acclimate herself to the apartment around her, but she knew it was small and smelled like boy, like her son's rooms had when they were in high school and college. She knew this boy was too young for her, but she didn't care in that moment.

She dug her fingers in to his back, another sigh escaping as he hit a particularly sensitive area. This was a welcome distraction from all the shit going on around her.

She arched upwards, grasping on to him as he rode out his erection. She didn't orgasm, but she supposed that was how it should be with him. She wasn't particularly turned on, but she wasn't entirely disinterested in what they were doing. It was neutral ground and her orgasms seemed to be reserved for someone who didn't deserve them at all.

"Was that all right?" He asked, sliding out of her and on to the bed beside her.

"Shh," she laid back in the bed and closed her eyes. She could feel him looking at her, watching her for some kind of reaction. Instead she simply let her arm cuddle his head, and she held him in a strange comforting sort of position, in which she ended up dosing off.

…

Her phone started ringing at one in the morning, waking her from a tangle of sheets and arms and legs. She could feel her head pounding, she knew she was still drunk, but not drunk enough to take the edge off of what would be a horrible hang over. She wanted to vomit, but instead she reached out an arm and searched the side of the rather uncomfortable bed for her purse. When her fingers connected with the leather strap, she pulled it up to extract her cell phone.

The name flashing across the screen made her stomach lurch.

"Hello?" Her voice was hoarse. The boy shifted beside her, but didn't wake up. He was asleep on her arm. It was uncomfortably asleep.

"Can I see you?" A small voice whispered on the other end.

_Fuck_.

"Not tonight." Sharon firmly stated.

"But Sharon, I…please…"

"Not tonight, Brenda Leigh. I'm too drunk to come to you tonight." Sharon inwardly laughed at how pathetic she had become. It wasn't funny.

"Sharon…are you…can I come get you?"

"No," Sharon attempted to ease her arm out from under the sleeping man at her side. Was he even a man? She needed to get out of this apartment, she needed to get home.

The boy shifted in his sleep, turning to face Sharon with hooded eyes. "Don't go." He whispered.

She held her finger up to her lips to shush him before stroking his cheek.

"Don't be mad at me, Sharon. I can't help it…"

"You can and you know it." Sharon harshly whispered.

"Sharon…I…I need you." Brenda Leigh Johnson, the ruthless leader during the day, was a sad mess at night.

"You don't need me." Sharon hung up the phone and the young man leaned over to kiss her.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Sharon just nodded. "Go back to sleep."

"Are you going to be here in the morning?" He sleepily yawned.

She turned on to her back and stared at the ceiling, not saying a word.

A tear slid down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away.


End file.
